Moments in Time
by raindropsandbutterflies
Summary: A collection of Reid-centric oneshots, ranging from angsty to humorous. Taking prompts through reviews, and PMs. Chapter eight: A cute Reid/Prentiss drabble. Spoilers inside.
1. The Aftermath

Reid lay on the kitchen floor, letting the tears slowly stream from his eyes. There was no particular reason as to why he was in the kitchen; it just was just where he happened to be when he realized the worthlessness of life. He didn't bother to sob, because that would take energy, and he was well aware that it wouldn't accomplish anything. He was just waiting for time to pass. _Like waiting for a train that would never come. But he was still waiting._ He could kill himself, but he knew that was too easy. It wouldn't be fair on his team. _His friends._ They needed him. Or, they needed his brain. He bit his lip. Was that all he was? A brain? Maybe. It didn't matter.

There was a knock on the front door. A voice. _Kind, understanding, worried._ Jennifer? He had called in sick for work, which _was_ out of character. Well, he hadn't called in. Instead he just waited for Hotch to call, and then told him he was sick. He hung up after, too drained to initiate any conversation. _Fuck. He had told JJ._ He felt anxiety fill his stomach with knots. His throat felt like it was closing, and it became hard to get air. Another knock on the door.

"Spence?" Her voice was soft, but laced with concern.

He needed to reply, to tell her that he was okay, to say that she didn't need to come in, but the words wouldn't come out. His breathing quickened, and he bolted upright, his hand grasping at his heaving chest.

"Spencer?" She called again. "I'm coming in."

He had forgotten that she had a key. _No. No, she couldn't come in. He was a mess._ He bought his knees to his chest, rocking in panic. He realized that he was holding his breath, and gasped for air. He heard the key turn in the lock, and closed his eyes tightly. He continued to rock. _Forward, back, forward, back. Breathe._

"Spence, where ar-" She stopped mid-sentence. He heard gentle footsteps.

 _Forward, back. Forward, back._

Someone sat down next to him. JJ, he remembered. _Sweet JJ. Gentle, brave JJ._ An arm snaked around his shoulders and pulled him close. He stopped rocking.

"Breathe with me, Spence."

He realized just how erratic his breaths were, shallow and rapid. Eyes still closed, he listened to JJ's breathing, paced and deep. He focused on copying her. _In, out. In, out._ Slowly. The fluttering in his chest stopped, and he gradually opened his eyes. He saw JJ, concern etched on her face. He tried to smile…anything to reassure her. All that came were tears. He let his head lull onto her shoulder. He could feel the fabric on his shirt dampening as the tears fell. He just couldn't stop. He cried and cried, until he couldn't cry anymore. JJ pressed a tissue to his face, and he whispered a thank you, the first thing he had said since she arrived.

"I-I," His voice was shaky and hoarse. "I'm sorry."

Warm arms enveloped him into a tight hug.

"What's wrong Spencer?" She was pleading. "Please honey, I want to help you."

He hadn't known why he was crying, until words fell out of his mouth, and he realized.

"G-Gideon."

That one word was enough to wrack his body with sobs. The hug became tighter.

For now, that was all he needed.

 _"Where you used to be, there is a hole in the world, which I find myself constantly walking around in the daytime, and falling in at night. I miss you like hell." ― Edna St. Vincent Millay_

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 **I'm not sure how I feel about this little oneshot. I just wanted to write something about the aftermath for Reid, after Gideon's death. I hope you like it! Also, welcome to my new collection of stories...please prompt me! I'm taking prompts through PM and reviews, and will write anything. For now, I think this collection will be Reid-centric, and I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you thought of this.**


	2. Maeve's Death

**This is written for the prompt of Rossi checking on Reid after Maeve's death. I hope it's okay...thank you for reading! Please send prompts for more chapters! Review, and let me know what you think!**

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They say that time heals all wounds, but Spencer wasn't so sure. It had been a month since Maeve's death, but it still hurt just as much as it had on the day that he lost her. The day that made him question everything he felt, and everything he thought he knew. Every time he closed his eyes, the scene played out in his head. Him begging, the ringing of the gunshot; the moment his world fell apart. And now, as he sat at his desk, staring emptily at the paperwork piled before him, he couldn't stop the hot tears prickling in his eyes. He clamped them shut, trying to prevent the tears from spilling, but it only made them worse. His head was spinning, the noise of the gunshot playing over and over. He sat back in his chair, balling his hands into fists and pressing them into his eyes, trying to block it all out. To make the pain disappear.

Rossi jumped abruptly as he heard a door slamming, He turned from the coffee machine to see that Reid was no longer at his desk. Panic spiked in his chest, and he abandoned his coffee, rushing over to the bathroom, where the door was still swinging from the force of the slam.

Spencer was sitting on the floor, legs curled into himself as much as his long limbs would allow, and tears streaming from his eyes. The grey bags under his eyes were a stark contrast to his pale skin, and he was shuddering as he sobbed. Rossi frowned, and slowly lowered himself to the ground next to the weeping man. He placed an arm around his shoulders and stayed like that until Spencer looked up.

"Go away…" He mumbled, his voice unsteady. "P-Please."

"Kid, I'm not leaving." Rossi said softly. "You shouldn't be alone right now."

Reid paused a moment, before wiping his eyes with a crumpled tissue.

"Is this about Maeve?" Rossi asked, although he knew the answer. It was obvious to the whole team that Reid was struggling. He was quieter, and whenever someone tried to help him, he snapped at them.

Reid nodded hesitantly.

"You can't keep building these walls around yourself, kid."

"I'm not a child." Reid muttered.

"I didn't say you were."

They sat in silence for a while before Rossi spoke up again.

"I know what it's like to lose someone and feel helpless about it, y'know."

Reid sighed, and turned to face Rossi.

"I can't…I can't get it out of my head. It's plaguing my brain and I can't get it out." His voice was shaky, and he was running his hand through his hair, over and over again. "I can't sleep, I can't…I can't _think_ …"

Rossi nodded.

"When we lost Strauss," He started, his voice gentle. "I didn't know how to cope. I couldn't cope. It was all I thought about. It consumed me, kid."

Reid bit his lip, dabbing at his eyes with the soggy tissue. Rossi handed him his handkerchief, and Reid took it gratefully.

"But that wasn't…it wasn't your fault." His voice was hoarse.

"Maeve's death wasn't your fault, Spencer."

"I could have saved her…I should have saved her,"

"Reid, shh," Rossi soothed. "There wasn't anything you could've done. You have to stop beating yourself up."

"I didn't…I didn't get to say goodbye," His voice cracked, and the tears began to fall once again. "I-I didn't get to tell her I _loved_ her." His body began to shake again, and Rossi squeezed his shoulder comfortingly.

"She knew you loved her, kid." Rossi said. "She loved you too. It was obvious."

"Y-You think so?"

"Yes. That's why it hurts so much. You had a bond."

Reid nodded, drawing his knees back up to his chest.

"You're not alone, kid. We're all here for you, but you have to let us in."

"I know…" Reid sighed. "I feel stupid though."

"You feel stupid for grieving?" Rossi asked. "Grieving is natural. It's understandable."

"I guess."

"You promise you'll come to us when you need us?" Rossi asked. "Or at least come to me? The girls can be a little overbearing sometimes, but I'm here for whatever you need."

Reid paused before nodding again.

"O-Okay."

"Good…I'm glad." Rossi said, helping Reid to his feet, frowning at how he swayed a little. "Jeez kid, you look exhausted."

"I…yeah." Reid sighed. "Nightmares."

"Tonight you'll stay at my place." Rossi ordered. "Pizza, movies…sleep, whatever. Whatever you feel like. Okay?"

Reid managed a small smile.

"Thank you…"

"Anytime, kid." Rossi said, pulling him into a hug. "Anytime."


	3. Pain

**Written for the prompt of Reid with a migraine. Please review and prompt :)**

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Reid closed his eyes, willing the lingering pain in his head to disappear. It had been a stressful two days of deciphering codes, symbols, and references, before they had been able to catch the unsub, and now, on the plane back to Quantico, Reid was paying the price for it. The pain in his head had been creeping up on him before he had even boarded the jet, but it was developing quickly. He exhaled deeply as a flickering, pins and needles sensation took over his body. If the pain before he boarded the jet was equivalent to a hot poker, the pain as he currently sat on the couch was more comparable to his brain being stabbed over and over again with an ice pick. He grimaced as his insides started to churn, resting an arm over his stomach delicately. He opened his eyes a little, squinting to see if anyone had noticed his discomfort. He caught Morgan's stare, and gave him as convincing of a smile as he could manage. That movement was enough to cause him to whimper softly, and he clamped his eyes shut again, praying for the pain to vanish. All he needed to do was bear the pain for the rest of the flight, and then he could go home to his dark apartment, take some painkillers, and sleep. _Breathe in, breathe out. Ignore the pain._

He felt like it would be a personal failing to admit to his team that he was in pain, although one of them would probably have a bottle of painkillers. Being the youngest in the team, he always felt it was necessary to put on a brave face, lest they treat him like a child. And so, he lied to them whenever faced with their concerns. He figured little white lies couldn't hurt, could they?

Thinking was making his brain hurt, and his brain hurting felt like someone was slamming his head into a wall repeatedly. He could feel himself shaking. _Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out._ It was working well enough, until the plane jolted. He lurched forward, burying his head in his hands in an attempt to block out the light that was seeping between his closed eyelids. He could hear a moaning sound.

"Crap," That was Morgan's voice. "Reid!"

The noise hurt his head more and he flung his arms over his head. The moaning continued.

"Reid, talk to me kid,"

It wasn't until he took a breath that he realized he was the one making the moaning sound.

"I-I'm…fine," He muttered through his teeth, his jaw clenched.

"What's happening, Morgan?" Hotch's voice. _They had noticed._

"I don't know...Reid?" Morgan sat down next to him, trying to pull him to a sitting position. "Reid, what's wrong?"

He managed a groan, and pressed his hands tighter over his eyes.

Hotch frowned at the grimace on Reid's face. Then it hit him.

"Reid? Do you have a migraine?" Hotch asked. Reid could hear the concern in his voice, and tried to nod. The small movement made his stomach flip and he started to breathe heavily. Hotch noticed the green tinge to his face, and thrust a trash can in front of him just in time. Reid panted in pain as he threw up, the force of the action causing the pain in his head to triple. He felt someone else sit next to him, and then felt a cold wash cloth being placed on his forehead. He leant into the coolness, opening his eyes enough to see JJ next to him. He clamped them shut again, and was lowered back so he was laying on the couch.

"Can someone get us a blanket?" JJ whispered, and Reid heard soft shuffling noises. He was grateful that someone had turned the light off. He felt the heaviness of a woolen blanket being tucked around him, and he buried his face into it. It smelt like JJ's perfume, and it was comforting. He pulled it tighter around himself.

He heard a sigh as someone crouched in front of him.

"'m sorry…" He mumbled. Yet again he had proven how weak he was.

"You're not in trouble." Hotch whispered. "However we will talk about this when you are feeling better. You have to stop pushing yourself so hard. You're making yourself sick."

"I'm…I'm sorry..I-"

"Shhh, Reid." Hotch soothed. "We have some pills for you to take, and then you can sleep. We have a few hours left on this flight, and then I'll drive you home. Okay?"

"T-Thanks…"

He swallowed the pills, and tucked his head under the blanket. Exhaustion soon took over, and he was asleep.

Hotch felt a pang of guilt as he watched the younger agent sleep. He had seen things that no one should have to see, especially someone so young. And sure, the rest of the team had seen them too, but Reid could remember every detail, every image. It was no surprise that the stress had caught up with him. He just hoped that next time, someone would realize before it got this bad. It wasn't easy when Reid built walls up around himself, but something was going to have to change. He was like a family member to them all, and he wished Reid would appreciate their concern, instead of pushing them away.

He smiled as he heard Reid snoring softly. For now, he was safe.


	4. To Hear Your Voice

**Written for the prompt of Reid calling Maeve for the first time! I'm so insecure about my writing, it's crazy. I keep re-writing things, because I just want people to enjoy them, aha. I hope this is okay.**

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Reid traced the cold metal numbers on the payphone, as he summoned up the courage to dial Maeve's number. His stomach was filled with nervous butterflies, and he took a deep breath before punching in her number, and pressing the call button. It wasn't that he wasn't excited to speak to her for the first time; he had been looking forward to it for the whole week. However, now that the time had come, he was overcome with nerves. What if he was too awkward, and messed up? Or he was too boring? He pressed the phone to his ear, and listened to the dialing tone.

"Hello…w-who is this?" A soft voice answered. Gentle, yet filled with a hint of fear.

"It's me," Spencer answered, fidgeting with the button on his cardigan. "Spencer."

"Ohh…" Spencer heard the relief in her tone. "Hi…Hi Spencer. How are you?"

"I'm…I'm great," Spencer couldn't help the smile that came across his face. He had imagined her voice time and time again when reading letters from her, but hearing her voice properly was greater than he could've ever imagined. "How are you? How have things been?"

"Yeah, they've…they've been okay." Maeve's voice was sweet and calm. "I'm glad you called. It's nice to hear your voice."

"I've been looking forward to this all week, I-I…I couldn't wait to talk to you, properly," Spencer babbled. He felt his cheeks flush slightly.

"Me too," Maeve began. "I've been reading your letters over and over again. How have your headaches been?"

"Not as intense this week," Spencer answered, "I've been taking the vitamins, like you said."

"Good." She replied. "I'm glad we're doing this, you know…talking. It's nice."

"Can we…can we do it again?" Spencer asked, his voice hopeful. "I mean, we don't have to, but I-"

"I'd like that." Maeve said, interrupting. "How about next Sunday?"

"Yeah…yeah, that sounds great." Spencer smiled.

"I'll speak to you then," Maeve said. "Take care, Spencer."

"You too, Maeve. It was good to talk to you," Spencer said, twirling the cord of the phone around his fingers.

"Goodbye, Spencer."

"Goodbye."

He placed the phone back in the holder, and leaned back against the wall of the payphone booth, a smile spreading across his face. He couldn't contain his joy, and placed a hand against his flushed cheek, smiling to himself. He could still hear her voice, gentle and kind. He couldn't believe how lucky he was, that someone as wonderful as Maeve would want to talk to _him._

 _Next Sunday couldn't come fast enough._


	5. It Will All Be Okay

**Written for the prompt of Reid going to JJ's house for one of the many times after Emily's 'death'. I hope this is okay:)**

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Rain fell heavily outside as JJ lounged lazily on the couch, flicking through TV channels. Will had taken Henry away for the weekend, and she had decided to spend the evening relaxing alone, and de-stressing after an exhausting week of work. It came as so much of a surprise to her when the doorbell rang, that for a second she genuinely considered grabbing her gun, before deciding that was irrational; it was probably just a neighbor, or a delivery guy with the wrong address.

It was even more of a surprise when she opened the door to find Reid leaning heavily against the door frame, thoroughly soaked from the rain. His hair was drenched, clinging to his pale face in chunks, and although his jacket had managed to keep most of the rain off his clothes, he was shivering, and had his arms wrapped around himself protectively.

"Jesus, Spence, did you walk here or something?" She exclaimed suddenly. She regretted saying it the second she looked at his face properly. His eyes were red rimmed, as if he had been crying for ages, and tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks.

He shook his head apologetically, turning as if he was going to leave. "I-I'm sorry…I-I should go."

"No…no, Spence!" She grabbed his arm gently "Come in, please. Come in, Spencer."

He looked at her, eyes wide and unsure.

"Please, Spence." She took his hand in hers, and led him inside, sitting him down on the couch.

"I miss Emily. I'm sorry…I didn't know what to do, I'm sorry." He apologized over and over, keeping his head down, and avoiding looking JJ in the eyes. She crouched in front of him, squeezing his hand gently. His teeth were chattering, and he shuddered as water droplets fell from his hair, and slid down his back.

JJ helped him remove his coat, and passed him the thick woolen blanket that she had been lying underneath before he arrived. "Let's get you warmed up."

Spencer just nodded, and continued to stare at the floor. He could feel his eyes filling with tears, and he clenched them shut, willing them not to fall. _He had cried enough, but the pain still wouldn't go away._ He fumbled around in his pocket, retrieving a crumpled tissue and pressing it to his eyes. JJ returned with a mug of hot tea, which he wrapped his hands around, grateful for the warmth. She sat down next to him, drying his hair as much as she could with a towel, as he sipped the tea.

"I'm sorry JJ." He turned to face her now, lone tears sliding down his cheeks. "I didn't know where to go."

She shook her head. "You don't have to apologize, Spencer. I'm glad you came here. You shouldn't be alone right now." She couldn't stop the guilt that built up in her chest, and it took all her self-control to refrain from telling him that Emily was alive. She couldn't. She had promised Hotch. _It was just so hard to see him so broken._

"I j-just miss her s-so much, JJ." The tears were falling freely now, and he leant to put the mug of tea on the table, so he could bury his face in his hands. Sobs wracked his body and he shook like a leaf, sliding back on the couch. JJ wrapped her arms around his trembling frame, pulling him as close as she could. Grief had hit him like a ton of bricks, and it was devastating. JJ felt so angry that she had to lie to him about Emily's death…hadn't he been through enough? All she could do was cradle him as he sobbed, rocking him softly. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, before Spencer fell back, exhausted.

"It's going to be okay, Spence." She soothed, rubbing circles on his back. "It's going to be okay." The wariness in his eyes told her that he didn't believe her, but she didn't know what else to say, and so she pulled the blanket around them both, and shifted so that Spencer was lying against her chest.

"Shhhh, that's it, shhh." She whispered as he finally stopped shaking. He closed his eyes, succumbing to his tiredness. "It's all going to be okay."

 _Because it was all going to be okay. He just didn't know that yet._


	6. Sharing News

**Written for the prompt of Reid calling his mom, and talking about Maeve. I hope this is okay, I don't know how I feel about it...I tried my best! Updates may be a little slow because I need to study, and I have a few exams next week, but please continue to send your prompts! Also, if you have sent me a prompt I haven't written yet, feel free to send it again, just in case I missed it. Thank you for reading!**

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"Hi mom…it's me, Spencer." Sometimes he really hated having to introduce himself every time he called his own mother, but he knew she couldn't help it. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make, if it meant he could talk to her properly.

"Hello Spencer." Her voice was calm, like it always was. If Reid closed his eyes, he could picture her sitting in her armchair with a book on her lap; that was how she spent most of her days in the hospital.

"How are you?" Their conversations always played out this way, but Spencer didn't mind. He would call her five times a day and have the exact same conversation each time, if it meant that his mom would remember how much he loved her.

"I'm well." She answered. Reid felt the weight begin to life from his chest. The guilt he felt over having her committed was often overwhelming, despite the fact he knew she was safer there. "How are you, Spencer?"

"I'm good." He bit his lip. "I…I met a girl, mom. Her name is Maeve." He felt nerves flutter in his stomach, and was unsure whether they were because he was telling his mom this, or because he was thinking about Maeve.

"Tell me about her."

He smiled. It was nice when he was able to have a 'normal' conversation with her, and they were definitely the calls he cherished. They made it easier to overlook the bad calls, where Diana was too paranoid to hold a proper conversation.

"She's…perfect." He felt himself blush. "We write to each other a lot, and I call her every Sunday. She is smart, and kind, and funny. I…I really like her, mom."

"I'm glad, Spencer." Diana replied, her tone slightly less monotonous than before. Spencer hoped she was smiling.

"I think you would like her. She loves to read."

"That's nice."

Spencer curled into his armchair, wrapping an arm around his knees. "I'll talk to you soon, okay? And I'll to write to you."

"Okay."

"Goodbye, mom. I love you."

"Goodbye, Spencer. I love you too."

He hung up the phone, smiling to himself. His heart felt like it was dancing, and he replayed the conversation over and over again in his head.

 _Maybe one day I'll be able to introduce Maeve to her,_ he thought. _And they would sit there, talking about English literature, and flicking through baby photos. Maybe. Maybe one day._


	7. Dealing with a Headache

**Written for the prompt of Spencer dealing with his headaches. I hope this is okay, and I'm sorry I haven't updated in a little while. Life has been stressful and chaotic, and I've been juggling exams, studying, appointments, and meetings, and I didn't have time or energy to write. Hopefully I can get more of the wonderful prompts I've been given written this weekend! Thank you for your patience. Review!**

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Reid knew that if anyone else were to position pain or illness as a personal flaw or failing, he would be the first to object. He would tell them that pain was _actually_ the body's way of motivating an individual to withdraw from damaging situations, protect a healing body part, and prevent similar events in the future. He would explain that pain can also arise in the absence of any detectable stimulus, damage or disease. He _knew_ that pain was in no way a weakness or failing, but as he sat at his desk, in the grips of a dull, pulsing headache, he struggled to apply that clear-cut logic to himself. He felt like he was being such a baby over having a headache. _People get headaches all the time. What do they do? They suck it up and deal with it._ He grimaced as a shooting pain attacked his temples, and reached into his bag, fumbling for his bottle of painkillers. When his hand didn't feel the smooth plastic of the bottle, he sighed, remembering that he had left it on the counter in his kitchen. _Crap._

Taking a deep breath, he tried to focus back on his paperwork. This part of his job was normally a breeze, as he never had any issue with recalling points of a case. However, as the intensity of the throbbing in his head began to grow, the words started to blur, and his thoughts were clouded by how much his head just _ached._

"Reid?"

He jumped as he heard a voice. He turned to see Emily standing next to him, leaning on his desk.

"Are you okay?" Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern. It had been just over a week since he had confessed to her about his headaches, and although he was glad to get it off his chest, he didn't want to worry her. _It was only a headache._

"W-What? Oh…yeah, yeah I'm fine." He replied, straightening himself up a little in an effort to look somewhat okay. "I'm just…working. Thinking."

"Reid, are you having one of your headaches? You don't look too well."

He sighed. He didn't want to admit it, and felt like it would be a personal failing to disclose that he was struggling, but the pain was growing by the minute, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"I…yeah." He shrugged, avoiding looking Emily in the eyes. He was embarrassed; ashamed, even. "I'm sorry…please don't worry. I'll be fine."

Emily placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it comfortingly.

"Have you taken anything for it?"

"I did this morning. I…I left my painkillers at home though." He bit his lip as a pain shot through his head. He was so grateful when Emily pulled a blister pack of pills out of her bag, he could've hugged her.

"Tell me next time, Spencer." She urged. She could see the shame he was feeling, and squeezed his shoulder again. "I won't treat you like a baby, I just want to help you."

He nodded meekly, before swallowing the pills, and mouthing a thank you.

 _Maybe reaching out for help wasn't so bad after all._


	8. Saying 'I Love You'

**Hi! I was asked to write a Reid/Prentiss fic, and although it's very short, I hope you enjoy it! Please send your prompts, and thank you for the lovely reviews.**

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Despite the fact that Reid was regularly dubbed a genius, and many assumed that he knew _everything_ , there were countless things he was still learning...like how to use chopsticks, for example. He and Emily had been together for six months and twenty four days, and he had already learned a lot of the ways that she said 'I love you.'

It was the way she slipped into his hotel room when they were working on a case, because she knew he slept better with her tucked into his arms. And she didn't even complain about his perpetually cold feet.

It was how there was always a cup of coffee in his favorite mug waiting for him on the kitchen counter when he finished showering, with exactly the right amount of sugar.

When they were cuddling on the couch and watching a movie, it was the way she listened attentively to his random spiels about the history of the movie, silencing him with a kiss when she had heard enough.

And now, as they stand in the kitchen, attempting to make banana pancakes, it is the way she brushes the flour off his nose, laughs, shakes her head, and smiles.

"You're an idiot."

Reid knows that when she calls him an idiot, he is a very lucky man indeed.


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